Brain Damage

Concussion, definition from WordNet: injury to the brain caused by a blow; usually resulting in loss of consciousness, any violent blow.

I often joke about having brain damage and usually point to a prominent scar on my forehead. This particular occasion involved 23 stitches and several more that were internal. Cracked it all the way through the skull. My brother-in-law was the first to see me, sitting on the bathroom sink blood poring down my face and into my eyes as I was trying my best to see just how much damage I had inflicted upon myself. I remember him saying it didn't look good. I can't recall if he called 911 or drove me to the hospital but I do remember being under the lights. Doctors and nurses hovering over me telling me it would be okay. Now I bet you are wondering just how did I get this nasty gash on my head. Well it started the day before while I was working at the Bonwood Bowl. I had injured my knee the day before and was on crutches. It was a Sunday morning and I was alone in the house as Mom had gone to church. I can remember it was one of the hotter days Utah had had for July in that year and Mom didn't have an air conditioner or even a swamp cooler back then. I can't recall the exact year but it must have been 1976 or 1977 since I had left working for the Bonwood before the summer of 1978. I had taken a pain pill for the knee and was trying to make a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. I was using only a single crutch to hobble about when I felt all the blood in my head leaving and the feeling of light headiness overcame me. I crashed head first into the ceramic tile lining the picture window of the kitchen. A floor fan broke my fall as I stumbled or I surely would have gone straight through the window and most surely died. It would have been several hours before Mom would have returned from church and the glass on this window was double paned. So instead of the glass slicing me up I cracked head first into the tile. Broke a chunk off too. Pretty impressive impact! I was not quite knocked out but could see in tunnel vision. I dragged myself down the hallway and grabbed a washcloth from the hall clost and my phone before falling onto my bed. I don't know why I didn't call 911. I called my sister's house. They just walked in the door as their phone rang. I was bleeding heavily and I can remember the feeling of shock overcoming me. It tingles like a nervous twitch about to run up your spine except this was all over and didn't quit. Luckily I remembered first aid training from Boy Scouts and proceeded to apply pressure to the gash and covered myself with a blanket. I stayed covered up on the bed until I had the bright idea to crawl to the bathroom and get a look at myself. That is how Greg found me, sitting on the sink trying to look at the cut. So now, some thirty years later, I can joke about this and claim I have brain damage anytime I goof something up or I feel like acting silly.